Page 10 of Twisted Shot
She tilts her head. “Comfortable enough. You’re not?”
Theo shrugs. “Not really a…crowd person.”
Mila watches him for a beat. “You’re a pro athlete. You skate in front of thousands.”
“That’s different. I’m not…talking.”
“You’re not talking now, either,” she points out, smiling.
A flush creeps into his cheeks. “I talk.”
“Mmhm.” She sips from her cider as the bartender lines up their drinks. “Just not to me.”
“That’s not—” Theo swallows. “It’s not on purpose.”
“Okay.” She lets that sit in the air between them, but her voice stays light. “Just making sure I didn’t do something to make you go all silent movie on me.”
He winces. “No. You didn’t.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
Theo taps his card, and the machine chirps. Beside him, Mila loads drinks onto a tray. He’s about to reach for the last glass when someone jostles her from behind, sending her stumbling forward.
She catches herself against him, palm flattening against his chest, her body snug against his front.
Everything in him goes still.
She’s close, closer than he’s ever let himself imagine outside the privacy of his own thoughts. Her breath flutters near his collarbone, warm and quick. Her hair brushes his jaw. She smells soft and summery, like citrus with a little sweetness. Whatever it is, Theo wants to bottle it and keep it in a vault.
And then—fuck.
Her breasts press against his chest, soft, full, and breathtakingly perfect.
It takes everything in him not to groan. Because, yeah, he’s dreamed about them—more than once. About wrapping his mouth around them, sucking until she gasps and arches against him. Aboutpushing them together and dragging his cock through the pillowy space in between. About watching her fall apart while he worships every inch.
Now they’re right here. Pressed against him. And there are way too many layers—and way too many people—for him to do a damn thing about it.
He forces himself to breathe.
“You always get this tense when a girl touches you, or is it me?” she asks, voice low and edged with a smirk.
Do not fuck this up, Tilbury.
He leans in a fraction, gaze locked on hers. “Try it again and find out.”
Mila blinks—like she wasn’t expecting him to bite back. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face.
“I wasn’t sure you even liked being around me,” she says, her fingers toying with the thin fabric of his shirt. Her words come out a little rushed, like they escaped before she could second-guess them.
Theo opens his mouth to answer, but a loud, off-key yell from across the room cuts in. “Yo, where are the drinks? Some of us are dying of thirst here!”
The spell breaks. Mila steps back, hand slipping away, but not before her fingers brush down his chest like she’s reluctant to let go. She grabs the tray, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Duty calls,” she says, quieter now.
They walk back in silence, drinks balanced between them.
The group’s fully off the rails now. Jesse’s making a show of autographing someone’s napkin with a chicken wing. Pavel is trying to teach Carter how to swear in Slovak. Flea’s turned on the charm, chatting up a few women who are very obviously here for Jesse.
